


A Truth Universally Acknowledged

by She5los



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Coming of Age, I started writing it because I wanted the trans headcanon to not be about Prompto for once, M/M, Teenagers, They're SO AFFECTIONATE and they care so much about each other and I love it, Transgender Iggy, brotherhood era, but then it grew into this adorable love story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-09 06:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13476042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/She5los/pseuds/She5los
Summary: “On your original birth certificate, would they have marked M for male or F for female?”There were, probably, a lot of assumptions Iggy had made about what made a person a man or a woman.  “I’m not sure I know how that’s determined.”His uncle Tellus sat down.  “Do you understand why it might be a touch surprising to me to learn that my nephew has just started his first menstrual period?”





	1. Count Ignis Scientia

When the war went near the county Tellus’ sister presided over, he stayed on the pulse of the action.  He was the first to receive news, along with King Regis and Shield Clarus, themselves.  He called and wrote, asking his sister to check in daily, to make actual contingency plans and tell him about them, and he knew it annoyed her, but much worse than that, it turned out he was right to worry.

Because his sister’s country mansion was ransacked and burned by the Niflheim forces, and it was only because of his planning that he was able to save her boy.

When the fighting came close to the mansion, Tellus took a trip into the country with a few people he trusted.  When he heard about the fire, he was only half a day’s drive away.  When he arrived, the Nifs had moved on, leaving only a smoldering, unstable building in their wake.  Strategically, Tellus knew, the building was meaningless; it was the nearby towns that would be of military interest.  But it was his own family heirlooms that were in that building, and any survivors would have to be found immediately, so they searched through the rubble.

It was a horrible day.  One of the worst of his life.  His sister and brother-in-law were swiftly confirmed dead, but not their child.  He’d only heard about the child once, when he received one letter (not even a phone call, his sister wouldn’t even do that much for him) saying his sister had been delivered of a child and he was an uncle.  He’d sent gifts and cards for the little one’s birthdays, but had heard nothing else, thanks to his sister’s and brother-in-law’s reclusiveness.

If he was lucky, he thought, if he was extremely, exceedingly lucky, little Ignis was in town or on the grounds with their nursemaid when the army attacked.

It turned out he was sufficiently lucky.

He heard a shout from one of his companions and went to meet him.  The man held a small child in his arms, a little boy.  Unmistakably related to Tellus’ Accordan lineage, since the locals almost exclusively had darker hair and swarthy complexions, and this little one had sandy-blonde hair and pale skin (too pale, no color in it at all).  He’d been found in the cold cellar, nearly unconscious.  Tellus took the boy immediately, whispered quietly that he was there and it was going to be alright.  His heart ached as if it were his own child.

The boy in his arms was limp and his breathing was heavily labored.  Tellus took him to the doctor who had come along, who said some not-so-reassuring things about the effects of smoke on the lungs and administered curatives in the smaller doses a five-year-old could handle.  Only a couple other survivors were recovered, also weak from the smoke, coughing as soon as the curatives gave them the strength.

.-._.-._.-._

Ignis woke up in the transport van on the way back to safe territory.  Tellus had been simultaneously glad to be able to rescue the survivors and disappointed at the number of legal documents and family heirlooms that had burned.  His sister had mentioned a will, but at this point, it was all ash.  That left little Ignis, coughing himself weakly into wakefulness, as a count at the age of five.

“Hello, Ignis,” Tellus said quietly, still holding the child in his lap.  “We’ve never met, but I’m your uncle Tellus, your mother’s brother.  I sent you a stuffed garula and a book of fairy tales for your birthday.”

The child fixed him with a judgmental look that a five-year-old should not have been capable of, clearly trying to decide whether Tellus was trustworthy or not.  Then he started coughing and gasping.  Tellus held him closer, twisting his head around to make sure the doctor heard him when he said, “Ignis is doing poorly.  He needs immediate help.”  Was his voice shaking?  Maybe, but it didn’t matter, and he couldn’t spend time thinking about inconsequential things.  The van slowed to a stop and the doctor was at his side suddenly, pulling some sort of device out of his bag.

“Ignis, I need you to breathe this in when I count to three, and hold your breath for as long as you can,” the doctor said, and held the device to Ignis’ mouth, counting to three before activating it.

Whatever vapor was in the device, Ignis coughed it out a moment later, and took quick, gasping breaths as Tellus rubbed his back.  Then his breaths started to slow, and the child was still wracked by coughs that reached all the way down to his lungs, but he didn’t seem to be in danger anymore.  The doctor took advantage of the van being stopped to check in with the other survivors, offering them advice and medicine.  It felt like a year before they started moving again; Tellus just wanted to get the child (and the others, but the child especially) to the hotel at Saxham, where he’d be warm and safe and would have time to recover.

Thankfully, Ignis slept for most of the trip.  When they returned to the hotel, Tellus carried him inside, telling the doctor that the boy would be sleeping in his room and was to be seen a minimum of once a day during his recovery.  He didn’t like the way the boy was coughing, still, like there was something inside his lungs.  The doctor gave him a breathing device – an “inhaler,” which created the vapor that had soothed Ignis’ attack earlier, as well as instructions for using it.  Also, strict instructions _not_ to use curatives without medical supervision; something about doing unpredictable things to growing bodies.

As long as Ignis lasted through the night, that would be enough.  It would be one day at a time for a bit.  Tellus resigned himself to staying up most of the night as he carried the boy to his hotel room.  He woke him only briefly to ask him to change into a nightshirt (a repurposed t-shirt that one of the rescue team had lent him) and tucked the boy into bed.

It seemed the sleep in the van had shifted the child’s sleep schedule.  Not long after he’d gotten Ignis into bed, the boy woke up and started asking questions: where are we, where are my parents, where’s my nurse, why aren’t we at home, and all the other heartbreaking questions that Tellus did his best to answer gently, even knowing there was no truly gentle way to answer them.  He was up well past two in the morning trying to soothe the little boy without lying to him.  There was a lot of crying on both their parts and Iggy had another fit of difficult breathing that was quickly soothed by the inhaler.  It was a relief to get the child to sleep, even though Tellus anticipated nightmares.

.-._.-._.-._

After returning to Insomnia, it was a relief to watch Ignis slowly but surely become more comfortable with his new home.  He informed Tellus very solemnly over breakfast one morning that his nickname was Iggy, and the nurse Tellus had hired to care for him reported that he wasn’t as withdrawn as he seemed, just more deliberate than most children his age.  Fortunately, even his strangest habits seemed to be just the normal peculiarities of a small child: wearing his socks inside-out, bathing himself even though most five-year-olds required assistance, asking for the same story before bed for eight nights in a row.  Sometimes, though, he would seek Tellus out, and in his soft voice he would ask him to recount the story of what had happened to his parents’ home and the role Tellus had played.  After the first couple times, he started supplying his own details: the determination on his father’s face as he organized the defense of his home, Ignis’ late nurse carrying him down to the cold cellar and instructing him to lock the door and not allow anyone in, the lightheaded feeling when the smoke started to come into the cellar.  Iggy worked his own story into the one Tellus was already telling him, and it was heartbreaking, but it seemed to help.  It did hurt, talking so frequently about the death of his sister, never mind that they’d become a bit estranged near the end of her life, but Ignis clearly needed it.

A boy that age also needed friends, and Tellus had exactly the social circle for that.  Clarus’ boy Gladiolus was six and a half, proudly displaying not one, but two gaps in his baby teeth to anyone who would look, and Regis’ son Noctis was three – perhaps a little young for the other two, but there were siblings with larger gaps in their ages, and Gladiolus was already intensely protective of the royal toddler.  An official position was created to suit Ignis’ and Tellus’ ranks, and suddenly little Iggy was Royal Advisor to Prince Noctis, a title first suggested over drinks as an hilariously overreaching title for such a small child.  After all, Clarus pointed out, Gladdy was already walking around, chest puffed out, bragging about being the Prince’s Shield.  It was only appropriate for Noctis’ other playmate to have a similarly serious title.  It had taken approximately three seconds for all three of them to burst out laughing at the idea of a five-year-old holding an actual government position, and then they’d started competing to come up with the most overblown title they could possibly give Ignis.


	2. A Visit from the Tide Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The doctor had arrived and asked the singularly useless question, “where does it hurt?” which Iggy had no answer for. He wasn’t in any pain at all, his appetite was fine, all his muscles seemed to be in good working order, but nevertheless, there was blood coming out of his body.

Ignis always marked the date two days before his birthday.  The day when, two days from being fourteen, he had been outed to himself.  The day he’d had to start rebuilding his relationship with his uncle, which had been stable and good for the nine years since they’d met.

On February fifth, he’d gone to relieve himself as part of his morning routine and seen blood on the inside of his underwear.  As soon as he’d cleaned himself up, he went to find his uncle.  He’d had no idea if he should be in more of a rush; he wasn’t in pain, but maybe he was hurt somewhere that didn’t have nerve endings?  But he was pretty sure his guts had plenty of nerve endings (and that Gladio had managed to punch all of them at some point or another during training).  And, anyway, that was kind of a lot of blood.  That couldn’t be good, right?

And his tutor wouldn’t be arriving at his uncle’s townhome for another hour yet, so that left his uncle as the authority figure to talk to.  Fortunately, it was time for breakfast, so his uncle was already in the dining room, reading the news on his tablet, dressed for the Council.

“Good morning,” Iggy said, and waited for the response, and then said, “I’m bleeding.”

“What?  Where?”  His uncle was standing at once, walking toward him.  “Did something happen during your weapons training? I thought you used blunted weapons.”

“It’s not from training,” Iggy said.  How could he be delicate about this?  It seemed too intimate to talk about directly, but he had to see a doctor if he was bleeding that much, right?  Maybe he could just vaguely gesture toward his crotch, and that would be good enough.  “It doesn’t hurt, but there’s blood.  Coming from my…”  His uncle jumped as soon as he realized what Iggy was indicating, and went to call a doctor immediately.  He was sent back to bed (without breakfast, even though he was ravenous; he was pretty sure he was in a growth spurt) and told to lie still until the doctor came.  He’d busied himself with reading ahead in his current history textbook, which was a fascinating read on the rise and fall of the Solheim Empire.

The doctor had arrived and asked the singularly useless question, “where does it hurt?” which Iggy had no answer for.  He wasn’t in any pain at all, his appetite was fine, all his muscles seemed to be in good working order, but nevertheless, there was blood coming out of his body.

The name of Iggy’s mysterious ailment was found just moments after the doctor asked Iggy to remove his pants so he could see what was happening.  He took one look at Iggy and sighed in relief, then turned around and told Iggy to put his clothes back on.  The ensuing explanation had included phrases like “perfectly normal for a young woman, such as yourself” and “approximately once every four weeks.”  The strangest part of the whole thing was that, even though Iggy had pointed out multiple times over the course of the conversation that he was a boy, the doctor still told his uncle, “Your niece only had her first visit from the Tide Mother; there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“My nephew, you mean,” Tellus had said, eyebrows coming together in concern as he looked appraisingly at Iggy.

The doctor had shrugged and said his goodbyes.

“Iggy,” Tellus said as soon as the doctor had left.  Iggy didn’t like his suspicious tone, and he especially didn’t like the way breakfast seemed to be delayed even further.  “You know how the only existing original record of your birth is a letter my sister wrote to me, and how your birth certificate was destroyed in the fire?”

Iggy _really_ had a bad feeling about that tone, but he tried to keep a calm façade as he said, “Yes.”

“On your original birth certificate, would they have marked M for male or F for female?”

There were, probably, a _lot_ of assumptions Iggy had made about what made a person a man or a woman.  “I’m not sure I know how that’s determined.”

His uncle Tellus sat down.  “Do you understand why it might be a touch surprising to me to learn that my nephew has just started his first menstrual period?”

A lot of odd turns of phrase and customs that he’d simply assumed were intended to be confusing were swirling around in his head.  “I think I’d prefer to hear your explanation.”

His uncle was considering his words very carefully.  Probably too carefully.  Iggy had the distant sensation that he was in an enormous amount of trouble.  “A young man, by definition, usually doesn’t have the equipment for it.  They usually have another body part entirely.”

“Not always, though,” Iggy pointed out as anxiety wound his stomach into knots.  “ _I’m_ a young man, and I’m entirely capable of it.”

Tellus sighed.  “Ignis, how had you thought sex was determined?”

“A woman ends up with breasts and a man doesn’t.”  It had seemed the only clear thing dividing the sexes, however crass it might sound.

His uncle nodded.  “And how had you assumed this was determined at birth?”

Was this how Noctis felt when Iggy quizzed him on matters of the Council?  It was _terrible._   “I wasn’t entirely certain.  It didn’t seem terribly relevant.”  He hated these slow conversations, with every word thought through.  He saved his uncle the awkwardness of having to explain by asking, “It’s very straightforward, isn’t it?  Very… visible.”

“Yes.”

There was nothing to _do_ with that information.  There was no action to take.  He knew with a profound certainty that he was an almost-fourteen-year-old boy, and until a few minutes ago, his own opinion on himself had been uncontested.  What was the appropriate protocol for this?  Was an apology necessary?  Wouldn’t that mean apologizing for his normal state of existence?  Was his uncle mad?  He didn’t seem mad, but perhaps he thought Iggy had been lying to him for years?  Iggy had messed this up in a way he didn’t know how to describe.

“I’d like to go to my room to consider this,” Iggy had said, and his uncle had let him go.  Even on the walk upstairs, he thought about it.  It had been so clear to him, even this morning, that he had a normal body for a teenage boy.  Everyone told him so, commenting on how much he ate and how _that’s just how teenage boys are._   It was _normal._   He’d been certain that there was nothing at all unusual about him physically, and now it turned out that there really, really was.

(Why did people say teenage girls ate less if he was physically more like them?  _Was_ there something wrong with him?  Was it some sort of placebo effect, maybe?)

He was so lost in thought, his questions swirling around in his head until he had to write them down just to keep track of them, that it took him half an hour before he realized his uncle had canceled his tutor for the day.  It was probably for the best; while “Moogle isn’t going to search itself” would be a complete misinterpretation of how databases work, it certainly wouldn’t spontaneously provide the searches he needed to do.  It was time to get to work.

.-._.-._.-._

Tellus would always remember when he had learned that Iggy wasn’t quite what he’d originally thought.

It was a week after he’d fought off a miserable bout of pneumonia – the boy’s lungs were still a bit weak, even after almost nine years, and chest infections always hit him hard – and nearly his birthday when he came downstairs, looking pale and worried, and said, “I’m bleeding.”  Tellus could see Iggy trying to be casual about it, but worry kept tugging his lips into a frown.

It was even worse when he realized _where_ Iggy was bleeding from; how could one call up one’s family doctor and say “hello, my nephew has Mysterious Bleeding Dick Disease”?  So he considered it lucky that Iggy’s usual doctor was unavailable and his partner was going to come round instead.  It made it that much easier to explain, albeit in delicate, vague words.  It was an alarming enough ailment that the doctor had come in half an hour.

It was only ten minutes before they came downstairs together, Ignis blushing furiously, and the doctor explained that Tellus’ “niece” was being “visited by the Tide Mother,” which, although it brought Tellus’ internal alert level down from ‘possibly dying’ to ‘routine but annoying,’ was entirely not what he had expected.

Once the doctor was gone, Tellus had a brief but unbelievably awkward chat with his nephew, which he probably screwed up completely, about how gender is assigned.  Scratch that – he knew he messed it up because Iggy had immediately fled to his bedroom.

First things first: Tellus had called Iggy’s tutor to tell him the boy was unwell again today, and also to confirm that he’d done a unit on reproduction at some point.  The tutor had characterized Iggy’s attitude during the unit as “uninterested” and “asking slightly tangential questions,” so Tellus figured the boy had just been keeping himself from understanding, which was nothing the tutor could be held responsible for.

He had breakfast sent up and then went to plunder one of the servants’ restrooms for appropriate supplies, leaving them on the counter in Ignis’ bathroom.  He knocked on Iggy’s door and told him he was going to the Citadel, asking if he wanted to come along; Iggy replied that he wanted to stay in.  There were all sorts of things that they probably needed to discuss, but Tellus hadn’t researched any of them.  The first order of business would seem to be calling a specialist to ask what a young man with such a condition might need, especially since there was a good chance Iggy’s body was going to start changing shape soon and it sounded like he at least wanted a flat chest.

His morning was filled with nitpicking at legislation, the exact topic of which he was never able to remember, but then at noon, he’d called a therapist, which seemed like the most reasonable first step: someone who could give Iggy good counsel and help him find appropriate resources without pressuring him into creating a plan of action until he was ready.  He set up an appointment right then.

He’d called to check in with Iggy, but the awkwardness from that morning still hadn’t faded.  He told Iggy about the therapist appointment and Iggy had just said, “Oh, good.  Thank you,” which Tellus couldn’t parse from a boy who was usually very clear about _exactly_ what he thought of all plans made without his knowledge.  Hopefully, Tellus thought, it just meant he was already intending to ask for the same.

When Tellus returned home, Iggy wasn’t around, but he did make an appearance at dinner.  Tellus tried to get a conversation started, talking about the legislation he’d worked on that day.  It was usually a safe topic, even though teenagers could be changeable and get overexcited.  Tonight, it was difficult even to keep a discussion going on a topic they agreed about.  Out of nowhere, Iggy said (in the very small voice Tellus hadn’t heard in _years,_ ) “I’d like to start puberty blockers.  Dr. Pulmonis can prescribe them.”

Tellus had never heard of medicines that could do that, but he figured their effect was in their name.  He said, “Of course, Iggy.  I don’t want to overwhelm you with doctors too early, but that does sound like a good first step.”  As long as they were safe – were they new?  Had they been around for decades, and he’d just never heard of them?  Never had a reason to hear about them?  “I take it you’ve had a productive day of research?”

Iggy had nodded and said nothing.  Tellus wasn’t surprised when he asked to be excused just a few minutes later.  The therapy appointment was a good call, then.

 _Of course_ it would be overwhelming.  The boy was fourteen and trying to fit in, and suddenly discovered something incredibly jarring.  Once the shock of it went away, and Iggy’s curiosity had been satisfied, everything would be fine.  Perhaps a touch confusing when it came time for him to seek a marriage, but there were all sorts of work-arounds for such private business.


	3. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you only want half the effects of your medication.

He was fourteen and a _half_ when Gladio kissed him and he didn’t feel much of anything.

Gladio was that special age where he was old enough for his dad to scold him for flirting with boys as much as girls, but young enough that he hadn’t started coming back with, “What’s some fun when I’m going to marry for politics anyway?”

Iggy remembered having a _massive_ crush on him.  Weak in the knees, misspeaking around him, crying afterward about the misspeaking, the works.  He’d only been on the puberty blockers for seven months, and he found himself alone with Gladio during a ball in a little enclave at the side of a balcony, and all he could think about the kiss was, _That should have been perfect._

It wasn’t, though.  It didn’t mean anything.  Six months ago, if Gladio had kissed him, he probably would have fallen over.  Now, he was totally in command of his faculties.

He had been desperate for something that would keep him from growing into a body that looked like a woman’s body.  Now that he had that something, it did, in fact, have side effects.  He immediately thought back to the warnings about “decreased volatility of feelings,” or whatever the phrasing was, and decrease in sexual interest.  And now, here he was, kissing Gladio, and the perfectly normal effects of the puberty blockers were painfully real.

“I used to feel that way about you,” he said.  He was tempted to keep kissing Gladio, partly because he didn’t want to embarrass his friend and partly because, even without the spark of romantic interest, it still felt nice to be pressed together like that.  But he knew he had to let Gladio make that decision.  “I’m on puberty blockers,” he said by way of explanation, which was definitely the wrong thing to say, but was still definitely the reason he wasn’t interested.

Gladio had snorted, like he often did when Iggy launched into legal jargon he didn’t understand.  “Sounds fake,” he said, which was… also something he said when Iggy or Noctis pulled out a particularly ridiculous phrase in Solheimian.

Iggy blushed, knowing from Gladio’s novels (which he’d read during his obsessive crush phase) that the redness of his face was hidden by the darkness and low light.

“I take a medication that makes me… feel less,” he said, which was true, and it was the most relevant truth.  He quickly thought of Noct’s SSRI’s and added, “Not like an antidepressant.  It’s more of a side-effect, not the primary purpose of the medication.  I… remember having a crush on you.”  He was frowning, he was frowning at _Gladio,_ he didn’t want to think about how much he must be wounding his friend’s pride, this was probably the exact wrong reaction to have to a kiss.

Gladio kissed him on the cheek.  “That’s okay,” he said.  “I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“I think I liked it?” Iggy told him, not really certain of himself.  He did like the gentle physical contact, and he liked Gladio.  “I just didn’t like it as much as I would have a few months ago.”  He leaned forward and whispered in Gladio’s ear, “My knees would have given out, before.  You would have had to catch me to keep me upright.”  He hoped that was romantic.  He didn’t really have a sense for what was or wasn’t, these days.

Gladio was blushing a furious russet shade now, and the darkness didn’t seem to be hiding it at all, so Iggy took his hand and kissed it, and went to return to the party and dance a bit before the night was over.

In the morning, he’d told his uncle, “I want to start testosterone.”

“Whatever for?” his uncle had asked.  “We agreed on sixteen; the medical literature recommends starting no earlier than that.”

“I used to have crushes,” he grumbled.  He was probably still tired from staying up so late.  “I was kissed last night and I didn’t feel anything.”

Tellus had turned to look sharply at him.  “Sixteen and a _half,_ ” he said icily.  “Who on Eos kissed you?  You can’t just go around kissing young ladies willy-nilly, Ignis; you’re a count, not a youngest son of five.  You need to preserve your good name.  What if you’d been seen?”

If he’d been seen, he would have been in actual trouble.  “Someone I was in love with, before.  I want to feel like that again.  I want to feel that much again.”

Tellus sighed and went to sit with him.  Put an arm around his shoulders for comfort.  “I promise you don’t; puberty is terrible.  But it does sound frightening, having your feelings pulled out from under you.  A love for the ages, this?”

Iggy could hear the joking tone in his uncle’s voice, but he still smiled and answered, “Absolutely.”

“Then it will still be there when you’re sixteen.”  His uncle had kissed the top of his head and reviewed an agricultural bill with him, and he’d felt a little more like himself, but he was still disappointed in himself for not taking full advantage of the feelings that being kissed by Gladiolus Amicitia should have elicited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No matter how much magic or sci-fi nonsense you pump into a setting, adults will always be TERRIFIED of teenagers' romantic and sexual feelings.


	4. Budget Paint Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis and Prompto invent a new sport!

“I’m making a grocery run,” Iggy announced one Thursday afternoon.  He looked at the grocery list on the fridge.  “I have chips, toilet paper, eggs, hard cheese, Duscae fennel, salsa, and floor soap.  Anything else?”

“Get two bags of chips,” Noctis called from the sitting room, as if Iggy ever actually let him stock up on junk food.  “Oh, and we need popcorn.  And I think your pads are getting low?”

Iggy froze and plastered a disinterented smile to his face.  “My what?”

“You know.  In the bottom drawer under the sink.  Prom and I _may_ have made up a game involving water guns and food dye.”

He did know the bottom drawer under the sink.  He also knew the drawer above it, which was completely empty, which had indicated that the lowest drawer was in an even greater state of disuse.

“Why do you think they’re for me?”  Maybe Noctis was just being his usual, ridiculous self.  Iggy could certainly hope.  Then he could just say they were there in case any girls came over and shut this line of inquiry down completely.

Noctis shrugged.  “What are friends for if it isn’t looking through their friends’ medicine cabinets and Moogling their prescriptions so you don’t have to ask awkward questions?  And the internet said it’s either cancer or gender shit, so it’s gender shit.”  Could he maybe not have said that while shooting zombies?  “Anyway, there’s only like three left.  I don’t know how many is enough.”

“Have you told anyone?”  Iggy asked.  He was going to _hyperventilate._   Noctis just scoffed.  _“Noctis._   Have you _told_ anyone?”  He went to block Noct’s view of the screen.

“I dunno, Specs, have _you_ told anyone I’m clinically depressed?  Everyone deserves to have _some_ secrets.  Especially people who need handlers in public.”

“PR specialists,” Iggy corrected him.

_“Handlers.”_   He looked up at Iggy’s face.  “Also, if there are pictures of me in tabloids covered in pads and some of them are green, those are forgeries and it definitely never happened.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Baron Sensus that in the ambulance after he has an aneurism,” Iggy told his charge, naming the public relations specialist in question.  “I’m sure he’ll find it very reassuring.”

Noct’s phone rang, as if on cue.  He grimaced and pulled it out of his pocket.  “It’s your uncle,” he said, as if that would make Iggy feel at all inclined to help him.

“Have fun,” Ignis told him.  “I’m not here.  I’m at the store.”

He went to the fridge to fetch the grocery list and get out.  The last thing he heard Noctis say was, “Do you really think we’d be dumb enough to do something that visible at a public park?”


	5. Coming Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to talk about marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're into historical romances, there's a lot of discussion of "coming out" as marriageable. It's the point in a person's life when they start wanting to date people and think about marriage, and it's called coming out because it means you start going to parties and dances and things instead of staying at home. So Tellus isn't telling Iggy to come out as trans or anything; he's telling him that he should start going to events as a bachelor, rather than as a person who's obligated to be there as one of the Crown Prince's retainers.

“Ignis, I have something very serious to discuss with you.”

Probably a good thing; whenever his uncle wanted to talk about Serious Issues, he usually ensured there was a particularly delicious meal to soften the blow.  Puberty had finally come, and it had hit Iggy like a truck and then not let up, so he was always ravenous.

“I have plenty of time,” he said.  “Just need to finish this paragraph.”  He typed out the last few keystrokes and saved, and then shut his laptop and looked up.  “Has something come up?”

“Not quite.  Ignis, it’s going to be time for you to come out at court soon…”

Fuck.  He and his uncle were down to _maybe_ two awkward Gender Discussions a year now, and they always left Iggy feeling inadequate and uncomfortable.

Tellus was right; he did need to start going to parties as an eligible young adult, not as a kid who’d been dragged along because of his rank and position.  And he _had_ been putting off any and all decisions pertaining to court life for…  Well, years, basically.  Ever since he was fourteen.

He wanted to come out as a young bachelor.  He also hoped he’d be able to marry a young bachelor.  He could only tell his uncle one of those things.

It was pouring down rain outside.  They sat down near the large window in the parlor to an assortment of tea sandwiches and his uncle poured something fizzy into both their glasses that smelled fruity and floral.  The label was written in Accordan.  Definitely a bad sign.

“The decision is your own, of course,” Tellus told him.  “You’ve been living as a boy your whole life, so that would seem to be the reasonable thing to do, but I don’t know how you feel about children and whether you’d want to carry on your line.”  A pot of tea was placed on the table and Iggy poured some for himself and his uncle.  “There are pros and cons to each decision, and I won’t stop you from deciding your own fate.”

The tea’s mild astringency beautifully complimented whatever was in the soda, and the warmth felt good on Iggy’s hands and in his body.  Most importantly, though, taking a couple sips of it bought him some time.  He’d read several accounts of people in his situation who regretted the infertility that unfortunately accompanied the hormone treatments.  It was sometimes found to be reversible, but now he’d been on testosterone for over a year and his voice was starting to settle into a lower register and there was _hair_ growing out of his _face_ and he’d started gaining actual muscle mass from his combat training, and he looked at his shoulders in the mirror and thought “I’d fuck me,” which was really a great way to feel about yourself.  Even the acne was worth it.  Could he put all that on hold for over a year, just for the sake of his own genetics?  He really didn’t think so.

“I don’t think I want to,” he said.  “In fact, I’m certain I don’t want to.  I don’t think I could stop my hormone therapy, even to have a child.  I feel… good, like this.  It feels comfortable.”

Tellus nodded.  “I’m sure you’re more aware than I am of the expectations people will have for a young gentleman, and how careful you need to be.”

“I don’t think I’m done considering coming out as a lady yet,” Iggy told him.  He was doing this, wasn’t he?  He was doing a lot more than just coming out as marriageable; he was going to _come out_ come out.  “Unfortunately, I’m not my parents,” he started, which should have told his uncle loud and clear that this was an _incredibly_ serious discussion; he knew the circumstances of his parents’ death were nothing to bring up lightly.  “If I weren’t so dedicated to the Crown, I do think the best option for me would be to come out as a woman, stick around just long enough to marry a young gentleman, and recede to the country, where I would continue to live as myself.”

His uncle picked up one of the tea sandwiches and took a small bite from it.  Swallowed.  “For what benefit?” he asked.  He always tried not to make assumptions, but it was exactly the wrong time to assumed he’d misunderstood.

“For the benefit of being able to marry a young gentleman, like myself,” Iggy said, and took a sandwich of his own, and then had another sip of tea.  He kept his eyes trained on the food in front of him, and not on his uncle.  He clarified, “There would be no material reason for it, as there isn’t for my hormone therapy.  But it would still be meaningful to me.”

There was a very deliberate pause before Tellus said, barely louder than a whisper, “You would have to live as a woman for the rest of your life.”  As if Iggy didn’t know.  As if he didn’t understand how trapped he was.  But he didn’t know if he could betray someone he’d married, either.

“May I be excused?” he asked instead.  “I’m not very hungry.”  He just wanted to leave.  He’d just come out to his uncle on a _whim;_ he wasn’t prepared for any of this.

“Darling, I thought our way out of the Keycatrich debacle and sent the Niffs running off with their tails between their legs; I can certainly help you figure out how to satisfy both of your needs.  Marriage opens up some very interesting avenues; suddenly, you’re above suspicion, and anyway nobody worries about young men running around and doing whatever they want.  Married or not, what’s to stop you from going out to a club or the theatre with a close friend some evenings?  Certainly, nothing I can think of.  You’re already assisting with the guest lists at events like His Highness’ birthday; what’s one more invitation?”

“Yes, but if I _were_ married, I would be betraying my wife,” Iggy complained; how could his uncle be so callous about that aspect of it?  “I couldn’t do that to someone!”

Tellus looked confused.  “So marry someone who doesn’t want to be in love with you,” he said, like it was obvious.  “A nice young lesbian, or someone who already has a lover and is looking for legitimacy.  A young lady with a male lover could even be extremely useful to you, since she could get pregnant with no work whatsoever on your part, and legally, the child will still be yours.”

“How are you so casual about this?”  Iggy was getting worked up just thinking about it, but his uncle was still cool and relaxed. 

“Ignis.  What am I always telling you about how good marriages are made?”

Iggy thought for a moment.  “A good marriage is one where both parties’ needs are satisfied.”  He never would have thought his uncle had meant so much sneaking and dishonesty when he said that, though.

“Exactly.  It sounds like what you want from marriage is not to be married to a man, but to be able to be in love with a man without losing any of your legitimacy.  To marry a young lady would be to share your title and property in exchange for the legitimacy you’re seeking, and it certainly doesn’t preclude writing such a young man into your will if things should get serious.  Mark me, there are more eligible young ladies than you realize who would be happy to enter into a marriage of convenience and hardly spare you a second thought.  She may end up a bit lower in status than I would have anticipated, but we’ll say it’s a love match and no one will question it.  Truly, Ignis, if neither of you expects or wants commitment, the lack of it is far from upsetting.”  He picked up his sandwich and took another bite from it.

And that was the end of the conversation, right?  It was all settled, just like that.  Only, it didn’t feel settled.  Iggy felt jarred.  He hadn’t meant to come out today, or this week, or this year, or probably this lifetime.  And they hadn’t really discussed it in any meaningful way.  “What about…”  How could he ask this?  He felt like a broken record; he kept trying to go back even though everything was moving smoothly forward.  “What about the part where I did just… come out to you?”

“How remiss of me,” Tellus said.  “You did it so smoothly, I didn’t think anything of it.  What did you want to discuss about it?”

What _did_ he want to discuss?  He’d always assumed that his uncle knowing would be the result of him and a cute boy kissing in an inadequate hiding spot and being discovered, not his own mouth betraying him and just saying the words.  He hadn’t prepared any questions or topics because he’d expected to be yelled at.  “You’re alright with it?”  His voice was all whispery; he could blame it on the way it was still changing.  It did still crack on occasion.

Tellus smiled at him.  “Ignis, I loved you five years before I even met you.  All I want is for you to have a private life where you can be yourself and a public life that allows you to achieve your goals.  Just bring anyone serious to dinner, and if you find yourself in a bit of a mess in the public sphere, we’ll figure things out from there.  You’re a very sensible young man, Ignis; it’s people who put their lust above their ambitions who let these things get out of hand.”

That… _was_ okay, then.  It was handled long before the words came out of his mouth.  Nothing was going to happen.  It was okay.

It was okay.

“What does Lord Amicitia think?” Iggy asked, and took a sip of tea so he wouldn’t ask _does he know Gladio doesn’t want to go home sometimes_ or _will he look at me differently if you tell him about this like you told him about all your other parenting challenges?_

His uncle smirked.  “Lord Amicitia thinks his son isn’t terribly good at separating his personal and public lives, but is unbelievably bad at explaining why it’s important.  For his part, Gladiolus doesn’t seem terribly intent on understanding him.  You’re entirely reasonable about these matters, Ignis; he won’t think anything of it.”

Iggy’s eyebrows snapped together.  “Gladio does know,” he said.  “He knows exactly what will get him scolded, and he stays out until all hours or sleeps over at Noct’s apartment to avoid it.”  How was this news?  Didn’t Clarus notice?  What did he _think_ Gladio was up to?  “I can’t pretend I try to stop him, either.”  Puberty-emotions were _terrible,_ and Gladio fell in love too easily.  Iggy should know, since _he_ was back to being in love with Gladio and got to see the way the Shield’s face lit up when talking about all sorts of people who weren’t Iggy.  It was no consolation to think that Clarus would extend more grace to Iggy than he would to his own child, especially since Gladio needed his consideration infinitely more.

“Yet, I do note that he doesn’t stop his rather public behavior,” Tellus pointed out.

“In that case, can you tell me what purpose yelling at him serves?” Iggy asked.  He was pretty sure he’d gotten his ability to be a smartass directly from his uncle.  “It doesn’t change the behaviors Clarus wants changed; it only makes Gladio dread talking to his father.”  He piled a few tea sandwiches and some fruit onto his plate.  “I’m going to my room.  I won’t hear my friends talked about this way.  Good afternoon.”

“Shiva’s socks, Ignis, you can’t honestly expect him to stand by and allow the rest of his son’s life to be impacted by scandal, can you?  I thought you understood.”

Iggy paused just as he was about to leave the room, and turned around to say, “If all you think I am is a scandal to be avoided, then I’m going upstairs.  I’ll try to calm down in time for dinner.” He walked back to his room.  He had ice in his veins, and shivered the tension out as he walked.  When he finally reached his room, he pulled his phone out and texted Gladio, _I just yelled at my uncle for being rude about you.  Feeling really upset.  Call me._   He ate small bites of the sandwiches, trying to regain the appetite he knew he’d had before everything went downhill.  He avoided checking the texts he received from his uncle.

What he received was a call from Noctis.

“Good afternoon, Noct; you’re up bright and early,” he joked.  He hoped he’d kept the tension out of his voice.

“Hey, what’s this screenshot Gladio just sent me?” Noctis asked, and Iggy’s heart fell.  “Are you okay?”

Noctis was always too observant for his own good; if Iggy tried to deflect, it would only mean taking longer to get to the bottom of things.  So he said, “We were talking about marriage, and coming out, and then I… came out to him as gay.  And that was fine; he was fine with it.  But I know he’s always talking to Lord Amicitia, so I asked about that.  And he just said everything would be fine because I wouldn’t be so foolishly public with my affections as Gladio is.”  His eyes were starting to burn, though he couldn’t say whether it was with rage or despair.  “I absolutely lost it.  I got up and left.  I couldn’t stand to hear him spoken about that way.  And I see my future stretched out before me, and everything that makes me a person instead of a robot needs to be tucked away and hidden.  …I don’t know.  I’m not myself right now; I’m too worked up.”

“Nah, that’s fair,” Noctis said, and somehow, his usual disinterested tone was reassuring.  “He gets way too much flack for all that.  If you’re trying to get me to tell you whether you overreacted, I don’t think you did.  You did the right thing.”

“…Even though Tellus is going to think I’m childish now?”

He could almost hear the shrug through the phone.  “No one’s perfect all the time.  Your private life’s where you’re _supposed_ to act out.  Speaking of Gladio, though, when are you gonna propose to him and get married?  I’ll sanction the marriage.”

Iggy snorted.  “Never.  And, if you tell him I have a crush on him, I’ll skin you alive, Crown Prince or not.”

“What if I’m King?”

_“Noctis.”_

Noct laughed.  “Alright, you know I’m just joking.  Seriously, though, he sees someone smile for two seconds and he’s in love.  Just ask him out sometime.  Just… I dunno, kiss him or something.  You’re not gonna scare him off.”

Iggy sighed and turned onto his side.  “It’s just hard,” he admitted.  “No matter how much you reassure me, or how well I know him.  Look, if I’m ever his person of the week, tell him I like him.  But, until I have a real, tangible chance, I need you to be as quiet about this as me.”  It wasn’t like he’d _told_ Noctis in the first place; Noct was just obnoxiously observant and had a way of figuring out everybody’s secrets with seemingly no effort.  Iggy had been leaving combat training with Noctis one day, and the Prince had turned to him and said, “Wow, you have it bad for him, huh?” and that was that.  All Iggy’s denials had fallen on deaf ears.  It was just a known fact now.

“Courage in the face of intimidating circumstances is a mark of a good leader, Iggy,” Noctis parroted at him, recalling one of the moralisms Iggy had pushed at him the previous week.  “Your leadership skills are only as strong as your convictions.”

“Yes, Noctis, thank you, but that was about convincing the Council to follow your plans, not confessing a crush.”  He took a deep breath in and asked, “You remember, a couple years ago, when we briefly discussed that I menstruated?”  More like they’d discussed that Noctis owed him another box of pantyliners, but it was irrelevant now that the testosterone had stopped the whole thing altogether.  “When I come out as a marriageable adult, would you recommend that I come out as a count or a countess?”

“Wait, what?  As a dude, right?  Why would you come out as a woman?  That’d be weird.”

“There are a couple key reasons,” Iggy pointed out.  “The first would be to produce an heir.  I don’t think I want to.  The second would be so that I could marry a man.”

Noct snorted.  “Yeah, because you’d make _such_ a convincing woman.  Just marry someone who doesn’t want to fuck you and have a lover.  I won’t judge; marriage is weird.”

Iggy didn’t want to make the same argument he’d made to his uncle earlier.  It was probably his own influence that led Noctis to say something so cold, but it still felt uncomfortable.

Noct started speaking again on his own.  “Really, though.  If you do find someone you want to marry, and you know he’s the one and you can’t stand to marry someone else, I’ll make sure it goes through.  It’s your call to make, Specs.  Don’t come out as a woman, though, okay?  That’s some bullshit.  No one should’ve asked you to do that.”

“Thank you.”  He remembered feeling apprehension when he’d gotten a call from Noctis instead of Gladio, but Noctis really did know how to sort things out, didn’t he?  He was actually turning out to be a good prince.

“Yeah, good chat.  Y’know what you could do to repay me for cheering you up?”

“Ask Gladio out?” Iggy guessed.

“You got it!  By the end of the week, Iggy.  Stop making excuses, get up the guts, and _do it.”_

What could he say to that?  It felt impossible.  But what came out of his mouth was, “I’ll try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be a LOT more about Clarus in the next chapter.


	6. First Kiss: Take Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of teenagers have a whole bunch of feelings.

He didn’t ask Gladio out by the end of the week.  Or the next week, or the next after that.  What he did, a couple months later, was join Gladio in the arena of adults-who-are-open-to-being-married-at-some-point.  It turned out he was very good at it.  He wasn’t remotely nervous around the young ladies he was supposed to be courting because he wasn’t remotely interested in them, so he was friendly and courteous, and he didn’t try to run off with anybody for a nice round of kissing or groping in a secluded section of the gardens, so he was also popular with the young ladies’ chaperones.  He had more freedom than ever to be on his own with other young men his age, and it turned out military officers were _fantastic_ at kissing, for the most part.

Gladio was having the same rough time he always had.  He’d finally stopped moving between crushes so quickly, but he still fell almost as hard.  One night, Iggy left Noct’s room after a ball that had had a particularly bad effect on his back and found that he had a text from Gladio: _Hey can I go home with you?_

 _Of course_ was what Iggy texted back, even though his first thought was to write something like ‘buy a guy dinner first.’  What had happened, that Gladio was so certain his dad would be pissed at him?  _Meet me at the front steps in ten minutes._

He went to retrieve his car and then his friend.  Gladio looked much the worse for wear, his eyes rimmed in red, his head ducked down like he wanted to make himself as small as possible.

“Thanks, Iggs,” he said as he let himself into the passenger seat.  “I didn’t really… manage to _avoid_ my dad, but I still appreciate it.”

“What on Eos happened?” Iggy asked.  “Are you alright?  Noctis had some trouble with his old injury and I missed the last half-hour.”

“Oh!  Oh, there was… I was just being all charming, like we’re supposed to be, and Rudis – you remember Rudis? – he came up and started yelling at me that I was yanking him around and I was actually gay and just lying to all the women I flirt with, and I… Heh.  Kind of wish I’d punched him, but I couldn’t.”

Iggy didn’t let his eyes leave the road, but he did put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “You can’t keep other people from acting out,” he pointed out.  “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know…  I’m just some kind of coward.  Can’t even handle the way my dad looks at me.”

“Not at all,” Iggy said, frowning.  “He’s entirely unfair to you.  I do wonder how you’ve ended up with so many terrible exes, though; what sort of vetting process are you using, that one of them would out himself just to tear you down with him?”

Gladio laughed weakly.  “Most people aren’t reasonable like you, Iggy.  They think with their hearts before their brains.  Like how I do.  I’ll feel better after I get some sleep; I just didn’t like getting yelled at in front of everyone.”  His voice broke and he couldn’t pretend it was still changing timbre.

Gladio’s big hand covered Iggy’s, holding it there against his shoulder.  “Really, though.  Thank you for letting me stay over.  Dad was pissed.  Yelled at me in front of a lesser ballroom full of people.  I wouldn’t have asked you to let me stay over if I could stand going home.”

“I’ll discuss it with my uncle in the morning,” Iggy promised.  “Doubtless, he’s already heard your father’s side of the story, but he may be able to help us figure out some sort of truce.”

Iggy drove in silence for a while.  His hand eventually slid down Gladio’s arm so they were holding hands.  He turned up the music so Gladio could cry in peace.

They finally arrived at Iggy’s house.  He led Gladio inside and got him all set up in a spare bedroom, brought him a glass of water, texted Gladio’s father so he wouldn’t think his son was mysteriously missing.

There was a knock on the door of Gladio’s room a few minutes after that.  Iggy went to answer it himself.  It was Tellus.  “What on Eos do you think you’re doing?” his uncle asked, clearly pissed.

“Helping a friend,” Iggy answered, blocking the door with his body.  “Why do you ask?”

“I just had a call from Clarus saying Gladio publicly embarrassed him and then ran off to _my house._   Would you care to explain yourself?”

“I don’t see how it needs explanation.”  This was the sort of argument Uncle Tellus had taught Iggy to do for years.  “After seeing His Highness safely to his room, I found I had a text from a friend who had been viciously harassed and slandered by a young man he’d kissed all of twice, and then yelled at by his guardian so that he didn’t feel safe going home.  I only texted Lord Amicitia so he would know his son was safe, not so he could meddle in affairs he’s already ruined.”  Tellus had to be able to hear Gladio’s sniffling and hitched breathing coming from inside the room.  Gladio had always been sensitive, but Iggy had never seen him so broken up; it must have been really bad.

“I’ve invited Clarus to breakfast tomorrow morning,” Tellus said.  (Threatened?)  “Gladiolus is going home and you’re going to stop helping him with this ridiculous charade.”

Iggy swallowed.  “Is that really where you want your cards to fall in this?” he asked.  “We’d been planning to ask you to help us strategize.  The young man who caused a scene today was completely secret; no one knew he and Gladio had done anything until he went flying off the handle this evening.  What’s he supposed to do, just not see _anyone?_ ”

“Ignis, you’re refusing to understand,” his uncle accused.  “You know as well as I do how damaging this will be to Gladiolus’ future.  People will be talking about this, they’ll keep their daughters from marrying him – nothing goes smoothly when people know things like _this_ are liable to happen.”

Iggy could hear the accusation that lay to the side of what his uncle was saying: if it were a young lady who had yelled at Gladio tonight for breaking her heart, it would be embarrassing, but acceptable.  Because it was a young man, it was a scandal.

It was time to back down.  Iggy was letting his own feelings take priority over caring for his friend, and that was unacceptable.  Instead, he said, “I’d just like to ensure Gladio is alright.  Even seeing his father first thing in the morning is better than seeing him now.  I think we’re all staying up too late and it’s clouding our judgment.”  There, that was diplomatic enough, wasn’t it?

“Clarus will be here at 8:30 tomorrow morning,” Iggy’s uncle said, thankfully accepting Iggy’s retreat.  “Ensure that Gladiolus is ready to go with him.”

He left and Iggy shut the door.  Gladio was sitting on the bed, clutching a pillow to himself, still crying.

“It isn’t as bad as he made it sound,” Iggy told him.  “People have short memories.  A year from now, no one will remember any of this happened at all.”  He smirked.  “Somehow, you’re still in a better position for marriage than me.”

“Let’s talk about anything else,” Gladio pleaded.  “How’s that captain you were going out with?”

“He shipped out on Tuesday.  It was never serious, so I guess that’s the end unless he comes back and we’re both still interested.”

“Why can’t I be mad at Rudis?”

Iggy sat down next to his friend.  “Because you loved him,” he said.  “You’ve always had an exceptionally kind heart.  Anger can be… helpful, but I wouldn’t call it a redeeming quality.”

He put an arm around Gladio’s back and Gladio leaned against him a little.  “You want to hear a dumb confession?”

“I challenge you to make it more ridiculous than me seriously considering coming out as a woman.”

Gladio nudged him.  “Every time things end with these assholes, I think about when we were fifteen – well, you were fourteen, I guess.  Do you remember that?  When I kissed you, and then things were weird for a couple weeks?”

“Things were weird?”  Fuck, did he make things weird?  “Gladio, I was—I was literally unable to have a crush on you; nothing you did was inappropriate.”

Gladio ducked his head a little.  “Right.  Puberty blockers.  Sorry, I usually forget about that.  But it all came back once you started hormones?”

Iggy nodded.  “Yes.  The good with the bad, naturally.  It would still seem not to be as overwhelming as what your own body makes naturally.”

Gladio laughed.  “If you can’t make your own testosterone, store-bought is fine.”

Iggy snorted.  “Yes, exactly,” he agreed, laughing.  “My voice and shoulders came in beautifully, which were the most important parts.  Crushes are still terrible.”

“They really are, aren’t they?  Did you…  I mean, I’m not trying to pry, so feel free not to answer, but did you ever go back to liking me, or was Cute Kid Gladio just way better than Hot Mess Gladio?”

“I… rather thought I’d missed my chance, with that.  I don’t imagine it’s terribly relevant.”  Hadn’t Noctis said he’d tell Gladio if Gladio was also crushing on Iggy?  Noctis had always been able to read Iggy like a book; he couldn’t imagine Gladio would be any different.

“I’d say it’s relevant,” Gladio said.  “I mean, as long as you don’t mind that I’m _terrible_ at being in love and I’ve pissed off a dozen people so far.”

Iggy turned and tried to kiss Gladio on the cheek.  Gladio moved his head and their lips connected and it was like an electric shock.

Iggy stood and hugged Gladio around the shoulders, letting his friend lean his face into Iggy’s chest.  “There’s nothing to worry about,” he said.  “We’ll sort things out with your father, and then we’ll be able to assure him that you won’t be going off and having frivolous affairs with young men who can’t keep their mouths shut.”  He smiled and added, “Also, Noctis says he’ll sanction our marriage.”

“Nice trick, if he can get it to work,” Gladio told him.  “I think I’ll be able to sleep now.  Um.  Thanks.”

Iggy nodded and managed to let go of Gladio and go to his own room.  He was up a while worrying, but he wasn’t able to _do_ anything.  It was terrible.  He should have felt better after finding out Gladio liked him.

.-._.-._.-._

When morning came, neither teen was well-rested.  Just as bad, Gladio only had eveningwear, so he also looked slightly ridiculous, even without his jacket and tie.  There was no chance of Ignis lending him a shirt that actually fit, so he just had to go to breakfast like that.

Clarus and Tellus were already in the dining room when Iggy and Gladio approached.  They cut their conversation short, but it sounded like they were just talking about fashion, nothing consequential.  There had certainly been plenty of beautiful clothes at the previous night’s ball.

“Awake at last,” Tellus joked.  “Come, sit; we have eggs.”

Iggy darted in front of Gladio to sit next to Clarus.  That left Gladio between Iggy and Tellus, and as far away from his father as possible.

“I looked through the headlines on my way over,” Clarus announced, his tone casual.  He handed Gladio a couple of magazines – tabloids, from the graphic design.  “The Prince’s gay shield: A story of heartbreak and intrigue in the Citadel.”

Gladio ran his eyes over the headlines and didn’t stop looking at them as he mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you really?  We seem to have this conversation constantly, and nothing ever seems to change.”  Iggy was immeasurably glad he’d kept Gladio from having to sit next to his dad.  “What’s next?  Will I be waking up to headlines saying you were caught in the act?  Perhaps you’ll be photographed with your hands where they shouldn’t be, and _then_ what are you going to do?  What’s your brilliant plan for when Noctis needs to act diplomatic and hospitable to Insomnia’s upper crust, and he has to leave you behind because of your reputation?  I’m not fishing for empty apologies, Gladiolus; I’m trying to help you secure your future.”  Gladio reached for Iggy’s hand under the table.  Iggy held his hand.

“I know,” Gladio said, looking small and uncertain.  “I’m sorry.”  He looked on the verge of tears.  He handed the tabloids back to his dad.  “I thought I got it right this time.  It started and ended, and it was secret the whole time, and I thought, I can do this.  I’m gonna stop fucking up so bad.  But I guess I just… can’t.  I always fuck it up.”  He was crying in earnest now.  “I want to say I’ll abdicate in favor of Iris when she’s old enough if it keeps causing trouble for everyone, but…  I think I’m too selfish for that.  I really want to be Noct’s Shield.”

Clarus said Gladio’s name much softer this time, and stood to walk around the table and hug him.   “Dearest, I didn’t mean to make you cry…  Look.  Gladiolus.  I do see that you’re trying.  I know it’s upsetting for you right now, on a personal level, but when these sorts of things keep happening, it does make me worry about your future.  You need a better strategy, and… I worry that I can’t provide one.  But I still can’t let you slide down into that level of judgment and controversy without any comment.”  He looked up at Iggy and Tellus.  “I’m afraid he’s had rather a long night.  Could you give us a moment?”

“Of course, Clarus,” Tellus said.  He and Iggy left the room, but Iggy stuck around next to the door.  Tellus tried to get him to leave hearing range, but he didn’t budge.

“I’m so sorry.”  Iggy knew the walls in the house were reasonably thick, but the door of the parlor was mostly for decoration, so sound carried outside easily.  “I’m always embarrassing you.”

“What?  Gladio, no.  Dearest, I’m so proud of you.  You’ve no idea how proud.  But you keep getting into these horribly public situations.  My reputation is secure; I’ve married and had my children and I don’t anticipate being displaced as King’s Shield any time soon.  You don’t need to worry about me; don’t think for a moment you’re going to hurt me with your relationships.  All I’m afraid of is that they’ll hurt _you.”_

A pause, then.  “There, Gladiolus, you’re alright.  I meant what I said, though: I don’t know how to guide you in these matters, and that worries me.  You’re always in and out of love, and that’s difficult enough without half of it having to be so secretive.  You’re only eighteen, Gladiolus.  You have all the time in the world.”

Gladio’s response was so quiet, the door muffled it completely, but Clarus responded with, “Dearest, I know you have an enormous capacity for love.  I raised you myself, after all.  But you need to be smart about it or you’re going to keep hurting yourself.”

“Yeah, I know.  You’re right.  But I.  Um.  I think that’s stopping now?”

Oh, fuck, oh _fuck._   “What on Eos do you mean, Gladiolus?”  Clarus’ voice sounded light and amused, like he expected Gladio to make a joke.

“Well, Iggy is…  I mean, he’s subtle.  Which is, y’know, the main thing I’m not.  And he’d never do anything to hurt my reputation, unless I was just an absolutely irredeemable asshole.  And, um.  He kissed me last night.”  And he was going to _strangle his new boyfriend._

“Yes, and held hands with you under the table; he may be subtle, but you’re certainly not.  And do you know what he would tell you, as a strategist and as someone who cares about you?”

“…Don’t count on it lasting forever?”

“Yes, and?”

“…And don’t gossip about him when I only heard one set of footsteps leaving?”

“Exactly.”  There was a short pause, and then, “Will you come home with me?  I do want to talk to Tellus before we leave, but if you imposed on him, I get the feeling it was my fault.  You can stay a bit if you like; Noctis is on bed rest until at least two in the afternoon.  He had quite the eventful week, didn’t he?”

Gladio snorted.  “Yeah, and he refused to do his stretches for four days in a row.  If you think I’m bad at remembering the consequences, just look at him.”

Clarus said something too quiet to hear, but it made Gladio laugh.  Iggy left as quietly as he could, which was absolutely silently because he’d been trained in how to make his steps undetectable.  Theoretically, it was intended to be used to evade assassins if necessary.  Practically, he did it all the time so he could eavesdrop and called it “staying in practice.”

He went to sneak around the back entrance to his uncle’s study, silencing his steps as he approached so he wouldn’t be heard.  Gladio would manage to amuse himself.  He silenced his phone just in case.

“Clarus,” he heard his uncle’s voice say through the door.  “Come in.  How’s Gladiolus?”

“He’s doing better.  Oh, and he’s dating Ignis, so prepare for Iggy to tell you that in a week or two.”

His uncle made an impressed noise before saying, “It’s about time.  They’ll be good for each other.”  A short pause, and then, “Are you alright?  That was quite the scene.”

An obnoxiously long pause, the kind that made Iggy wonder if he was missing something, but then a perfectly audible, “He’s never cried before.  I felt terrible; I thought he was being… Whatever it is people are always saying teenagers are.  Rebellious, surly, whatever you like.”  A pause that included the sound of creaking furniture, probably indicating that Clarus had sat down.  “I don’t know what I missed; I thought he was just ignoring me, since he was always running off and doing the opposite of what I asked.  If you don’t tell me Iggy has his own moments where he’s impossible to parse, I shall have to get rather drunk tonight.”

“Clarus, he’s a teenager.”  Tellus’ voice was warm, like he was smiling.  “They’re all unknowable until the exact moment they tell you what they’ve been up to.  You seem to be forgetting the time the Royal Physician mentioned an attempt on Noctis’ life the previous week so he could ask how Iggy was recovering and I had to play along as if I’d already heard about it.  Everything seems to be on a need-to-know basis with him.”  It certainly was.  If he couldn’t figure out the connection between his closest friend harassing and shaming Gladiolus for years and Ignis not coming to him with all his secrets, he didn’t deserve anything better than a need-to-know basis.  He could handle hearing about Iggy’s life second-hand if he wasn’t going to shape up.

“They do need their space,” Clarus conceded.  “I suppose it’s the price of letting them grow up: suddenly, they don’t need you anymore and it’s all your own fault.”

“They do, though,” Tellus countered.  “They do need us, just less than before.  And differently.  And they need to be convinced of the necessity.”

“It’s rough on both sides, I suppose,” Clarus said.  “I should get going; Gladio will want to be home, in his own room.  Thank you for having him over while I was making my mistakes.”

Iggy left silently, going to his room and then the one where Gladio had stayed, finally finding his friend (boyfriend?).

“Knock knock,” he said, mirroring the words with sharp taps on the door frame.

“Iggy!  I didn’t know if I was gonna be able to find you.”  Gladio looked relieved and _so happy._   His voice softened when he said, “Thanks again for having me over.”  His cheeks lit up a lovely shade of pink before Iggy’s eyes.

“I came to collect,” Iggy said, feeling hea creep up his neck just from looking at that _blush_ and Gladio’s bashful smile.  “I think you owe me a kiss.”

“What?  …Oh, right, I guess I never did kiss you back.”  He was very near, suddenly.  His voice was very deep.

“Not for that one,” Iggy said, eyes darting to Gladio’s jaw, his neck, his chest, and returning to his lips.  “A redo of a kiss from long ago.  I think I can appreciate it now.”

Gladio was adorably confused for a moment.  Iggy could see the moment he realized what was being suggested.  “You’re absolutely right,” he said.  “One awkward first kiss, coming up.”

“Let’s see if my legs hold out,” Iggy joked.  He couldn’t stop smiling.  Gladio’s arm slipped around the small of his back and his spine lit up like it was electrified.  Gladio kissed him suddenly, chastely, quickly, and then pulled back.  They were both still smiling at each other.

“I think I’ll be able to hold you up,” Gladio said, which was good because Iggy did feel a little weak in the knees.  He hugged Gladio, one arm over his shoulder and the other around his ribcage, and buried his face in that broad chest.

There was a sigh from the doorway and Iggy straightened and pulled away in record time.  “Gladiolus, do you have to?” Clarus asked, clearly weary of policing his son’s love life.

Iggy laughed first.  He snorted and then he was giggling.  The whole thing was so absurd.  “Apologies,” he said.  “Couldn’t resist.”  He straightened his glasses.  “We just got a bit excited.”  He turned back to Gladio.  “Oh, and my uncle says I have to bring ‘anyone serious’ around for dinner, so we should make arrangements soon.”

Gladio mumbled a soft, “Sorry, Dad,” still looking slightly ridiculous in his silk dress shirt.  He smiled at Iggy, almost looking nervous.  “And we should definitely have dinner together.  With your uncle.  Who _definitely_ doesn’t terrify me now.”

Iggy laughed and took Gladio’s hand, bowing and kissing Gladio’s knuckles.  “I’ll look forward to it,” he said.  He really was going to fall over if he kept up all this romance, so he went to collect the clothes Gladio had arranged on the bed and hand them over.  “Is that all you had?” he asked, trying to be conscientious even though he was having so many feelings.  Way too many feelings; he didn’t know how Gladio dealt with this all the time.  “You have your phone with you?”

Gladio nodded.  “I have my phone.  Thank you again for having me over.  Dad, would you mind if I…?”

Clarus rolled his eyes, but looked away just long enough for Gladio to kiss Iggy on the cheek.

“See you soon,” Gladio promised.  “I guess I get to head over to the Citadel once I’m changed and everything, so I can help Noct with his PT.”

“I’ll probably see you tomorrow, then,” Iggy told him.  “I’m still reviewing the court case with the possibly-tampered-with video.  It’s all rather a mess, but Noctis needs to be able to speak intelligently about it, so here I am.”

“See you then,” Gladio said again, and left with his dad.  Iggy listed to the side until he went to sit down on the bed.

His uncle found him there a couple minutes later.  “Ignis, what are you doing?” he asked, sounding a little confused.  “Gladiolus and Clarus have already left.”

“We need to have Gladiolus over for dinner.”  He’d been expecting to say that about an officer or some other less distinguished gentleman.  Definitely not the Prince’s Shield, direct heir to the Amicitia line.  He was so unbelievably lucky.

“That was a bit tangential; are you well?  You seemed alright at breakfast.”  Tellus came to sit next to him.

Iggy took a deep breath.  “I think I know what flirting is supposed to feel like,” he said.  Another tangential answer.  He needed to get himself together.  “I, um.  Do you remember when I was fourteen and I told you I’d been kissed?”

“Vividly.”

Iggy smiled, just shy of laughing.  “It happened again,” he said.  “Same person.  You were entirely correct: I went right back to being hopeless for him very soon after I started testosterone.”  He needed to tie up his tangents; the bad rhetoric was getting more embarrassing than his crush.  “So, I’ll say again: we need to have Gladio over for dinner.  Since you said to invite anyone romantically significant to come by.” As a joke, he offered, “Noctis says he’ll sanction the marriage.”

“Noctis isn’t yet beholden to his Council.  I know you’ll be good for Gladiolus, but do you think he’ll be good for you?  He seems to be constantly on the edge of disaster.”

Iggy smirked.  “Yes, but you’re forgetting that all of his previous boyfriends and most of his girlfriends have been louts who think with their genitals instead of their brains.  He’s fundamentally alright at maintaining his reputation; he just has terrible taste, for the most part.”

“Then I’m very glad for you.  Come have some breakfast; it’s been much too exciting a morning and you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Very exciting,” Iggy agreed.  “Raw silk falls astoundingly well over such a large frame, doesn’t it?”  He was a fan of light, delicate fabrics for himself, but as out-of-place as Gladio’s clothes were, that didn’t stop them from looking amazing on him.

“Didn’t you have a hand in helping arrange his and Noctis’ most recent orders from the tailors?”

“I certainly did.  Good decisions were made all around.  We couldn’t have another incident with some idiot putting Gladio in artificial fibers or Noctis in anything slim-fitting.  Anyway, we have to look good together and you know I refuse to let anybody order my clothes for me.  Perish the thought.”

“You got to play dress-up with your crush,” Tellus re-phrased.  “How did I ever think you were the subtle one?”

“Because I fit more easily behind pillars and hedges,” Iggy replied.  “Anyway, I believe I was promised eggs?”

“They’ll be cold,” his uncle pointed out.

“I’m near to falling over; any breakfast will be greatly appreciated.”  He still wouldn’t discount his crush on Gladio for adding to the effect, but come to think of it, it was probably blood sugar, too.


	7. Pick Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iggy and Gladio talk about what their relationship means and grab some coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They only just got into a romantic relationship, but they've been looking out for each other in all kinds of ways for years, right? Right.

Monday morning, Iggy went to pick up Gladio as well as Noctis.  They all three got along, and it would give Iggy more time after dropping Noct off at school to talk with Gladio.  Noctis was half-asleep, anyway; Iggy recognized the subtle outline of his back brace under his clothes and hoped the prince wasn’t overexerting himself.

“I’ve been thinking,” Iggy said once Noctis was dropped off.

“You sure that’s okay?” Gladio asked.  “Can be dangerous.  Bad for your health.”

Iggy smacked Gladio lightly on the arm as he started to smile.  “Oh, stop.  I was thinking: we’re fairly certain this is going to work, yes?”

“The relationship?  Yeah, no reason it wouldn’t.  Why?”

“Would you like to be engaged?”  He’d thought about the phrasing for hours; why had he not used one of the dozen gentler and less ridiculous-sounding ways to propose this?  “Not that I’m trying to rush you; I was just thinking it would give us both rather a good way of deterring questions.  More legitimacy than ‘oh, I can’t tell you who my lover is, but we’re definitely exclusive.’  It would be a long engagement, naturally; I wouldn’t want to rush into anything permanent until we’re more certain than we already are.  But I’ve actually always thought a long engagement rather romantic.”

“My parents were engaged for two years,” Gladio pointed out, completely sidestepping how quickly Iggy was taking this.  “How long were you thinking?”

“Probably at least five.  Or until we’re certain.  It certainly wouldn’t be an attempt to keep you close if you didn’t want to be with me, only a precaution to help me keep people away from me.”

“Let’s wait a year or so, anyway,” Gladio said.  “If we get engaged, it should be because we like what we’ve built together.  Just tell people you’re taken, and if they don’t respect that, that’s their problem.”

“I suppose,” Iggy conceded.  He knew, if someone told him they were taken, he’d accept that without question, but he wasn’t most people and he couldn’t stand the thought of having to flirt with girls now that he could flirt with Gladio as long as they were in their homes, and he hated not having a backup plan; ‘I’m taken’ didn’t seem to mean as much, especially without a person to link it to—

“I can see you stressing about it, Iggs,” Gladio told him.  “Trust me: we’ll be fine.  No one’s gonna let it turn into a scandal.  Just say you’re taken and no one’s going to question it.  They’ll just think the person’s out of town.”

“Little do they know, he’s right next to me.”

“Exactly.”  Gladio stroked his arm, even though he couldn’t look away from the road to reciprocate.  “You’re gonna be Igg-ceptional.”  Iggy snorted and pushed Gladio back to his side of the car.  “Now, don’t get Iggs-asperated already; I’ve only just started!”

“I’m _driving!”_ Iggy pointed out, as if it wasn’t obvious.  “Stop distracting me; you’re too good at this.”

“Fine, then.  Igg-nore me.”

“I’ll be Gladdy to,” Iggy told him, and reached over in the vague direction of Gladio’s hand.  When they finally connected, he raised the hand to his lips and kissed it.  “I’ll be thinking about those puns all day now.  You’re terrible.”

“You love them.”

“Mmh.”  He did, but he would never admit it.  Then Gladio would make _more_ puns, and before he knew it, they’d be kissing in front of all and sundry.  “My parents were only engaged for about two months,” he said, by way of changing the subject.  “Then they ran off to my father’s estate in the country.  They were astoundingly irresponsible, though.”

He saw Gladio, out of the corner of his eye, double-taking at him.  “You sure you want to talk about that?”

“It’s nothing private,” Iggy assured him.  “They abandoned me when I was five, out of their own negligence, and left me with a painful lung disease in the care of my uncle, who at the time was a near-stranger.”

“They didn’t _abandon you,_ ” Gladio told him.  “They _died._ ”

“What difference is there, when you’re five?” Iggy asked.  “My uncle told them to leave, repeatedly, and they didn’t.  I’ve been over the scenario on paper, and I still can’t figure out how they intended to survive an attack.”  It was an annoyance to him, most of the time.  After all, he had an uncle who’d taught him all about responsibility, and his asthma wasn’t really that bad anymore, and he knew that any imagining of his parents had to be better than the unmotivated idiots his uncle always described despite knowing them and loving them dearly.  But he had the strangest feeling of wanting to introduce Gladio to them, even though he only had vague memories from before the fire.

“I probably would’ve done the same,” Gladio told him.  “If it meant helping my people evacuate, y’know?”

“You’re imagining a different kind of lord,” Iggy told him.  “You’re imagining someone like yourself or your father, or my uncle, who’s dedicated to his people and his land and would return to the country in order to take a more active role in the management of his resources.  My parents were more the ‘idle rich’ types; they eloped to my father’s holdings and proceeded to enjoy all the pleasures of the country with little care for the state of the local townships.  I imagine, with a well-timed surrender, their people wouldn’t have particularly noticed the change in management.  Nobody uses the crownspiece in the country, anyway; I hear even Lestallum primarily uses the gil, these days,” he pointed out, naming the respective currencies of Lucis and Niflheim.  “What worth can Insomnian money have in the lands we’re mostly failing to protect?  So they wouldn’t even have to adjust to a new currency.  My parents were fools, Gladio; my primary goal in life is to be as dissimilar to them as I can.”

“Why are you telling me?” Gladio asked quietly.  Which was a fair enough question; Iggy hadn’t talked about his parents for more than a moment at a time since he’d stopped seeing a trauma specialist when he was about ten.

“I want you to know more about me,” Iggy said, which was most of the truth.  But it felt dishonest not to include the rest of the truth, so he added, “And it occurred to me that I’m going to be worrying about how to win your father’s approval, and you won’t even get to meet my parents.”

Gladio leaned across the center console to rest his head on Iggy’s shoulder.  “Don’t worry about that,” he said, and Iggy could hear the smile in his voice.  “Tellus scares me more than enough.”

“I suppose he does have experience in being the intimidating parental figure,” Iggy pointed out.  He couldn’t help smiling a little when Gladio sounded so amused.  “All my cousins _are_ married, after all.  And properly, not like my parents.  From what I understand of my grandparents, they mostly figured their children would work things out for themselves.  Never a good policy when you’re dealing in these sort of public affairs.  Tellus allows me an entirely reasonable amount of freedom, and doesn’t ask too many prying questions, but if I ever presumed to run off like my mother did, I have no doubt he’d find a way to put a stop to it before we got far.  And, anyway, I’m far too ambitious to elope.”

“Same.”  Gladio straightened, returning to his own side of the car.  “We should still have a nice honeymoon, though.  Half camping, half touristing?  That sound good?”

“We should visit all the famous restaurants,” Iggy suggested.  “There are supposed to be a couple particularly exceptional ones near Galdin Quay.  We could take a beach holiday and go hiking in the hills nearby.  Or my father’s estate was near Saxham.  The land is supposed to be beautiful, even if I can’t claim it anymore.  We could sneak in.”

Gladio laughed.  “Sounds great.  What’ll we tell the Niflheim army?”

“That we’re people of little consequence, naturally,” Iggy told him, somehow keeping a straight face.  “But we’ll be so high-profile by then, our faces will be on every database.  We’ll have to fight our way out, you with your sword and me with my daggers, and you’ll look so dashing.  I imagine your father intends to give you a good sword as a coming-of-age present?”

“I’ve actually started trying out buster swords,” Gladio admitted.  “I think I’m pretty serious about them.  He says I need to settle on one weapon before we put real money into one.”

Iggy grinned.  “You with a buster sword?  I despair to think of what you must be compensating for.”

That earned him a snort.  “Nah.  They just feel really good to use.  I get a lot more power in my swing with something so heavy.  And I’ve really started bulking up recently, so it should work pretty well.”

“I think it would look dashing,” Iggy admitted, dropping his joking demeanor.  “My own fairy-tale lordling.  Do you still avoid armor?  I need to come to one of your training sessions and watch you swing a sword nearly as heavy as yourself.”

“Oh, uh.  Yeah, I still hate the feel of it.  And I’m still working on form, so I mostly don’t need it.  You really thirsty enough to come to the gun show?”

“Always.”  Iggy drove in silence for a few moments before asking, “Have you ever thought about growing out your beard?”

“Have you?”

“Gladio, I’m nearly _blonde._   Anyway, my facial hair isn’t really… growing in yet.  I’m a couple years behind, if you remember.”  He only had to shave about once a week.  It would get faster; he just had to give it time.

“Wait.  Stop.  Turn around.  We’re getting you some coffee and a scone.”

“What?  What does that have to do with anything?”  He was in the wrong lane for his favorite coffee shop, anyway, and the turn would be soon.

“You’re stressing over things that don’t matter.  I can’t let you show up to work like that.”  Gladio covered one of Iggy’s hands with his own and brushed his thumb over Iggy’s knuckles.  “Did you sleep alright last night?”

Iggy swallowed.  “Of course.”

“Liar.”

“You know me too well,” Iggy complained.

“We’re getting you a coffee and a fancy pastry, Iggs.  I knew something was off.”

“We’ll be late.”

“Who’s depending on us?  No one.  You have to take care of yourself.  Change lanes; we’re going to Ebony.”

Iggy worked on changing lanes; it was still difficult and stressful, and he needed more space for it than most drivers.  He managed it, though, and a couple minutes later, they pulled into a café.

“We’re just picking things up,” he told Gladio, his tone leaving no room for argument.  “Just a canned coffee and a pastry, and we’re leaving.”

“Sure, but you’re going to sit and relax with them once we’re at the Citadel.”

Iggy rolled his eyes.  That was enough of a compromise for now.  “Very well.  Do you need anything?”

“Almond croissant.  Thanks, Iggy.”

“You’re only doing this so you can eat your fill of marzipan.  You’re a sneaky opportunist.”

“A sneaky opportunist who gives good kisses,” Gladio corrected him.  “And you know you need to take better care of yourself; it’s practically public knowledge.  We’ll get some coffee and pastries and you can watch me train for a while.  You do need to get more sleep, though; you’ll make yourself sick.”

“…Says the lord of ‘I didn’t know it would make me this sore.’”

Gladio snorted.  “Yeah, but do you see me training too hard when I’m sore?  Never.  But you’re always working your ass off on three hours of sleep.  It’s no good for you.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Iggy offered as he pulled into a parking space.  “If I do start to get too tired, I’ll go to Noct’s old room and rest.  But if I perk up with some coffee and sweets, I’ll go about my business as usual.”

“Sounds good,” Gladio agreed.  “No pounding canned coffee to keep yourself awake, though.”

Iggy smirked.  “When I do that, it just makes me sick,” he said.  “I tried that the week before Noct’s birthday.  Never again.  Here, do you just want a pastry, or should I get you a drink, too?”  He ducked out of the car to grab his wallet from his messenger bag, tucked safely in the back seat.

“Mint tea?  Please and thank you.”

“Of course.”  He left Gladio in the car, promising he wouldn’t be long.  Even the time it took for them to brew the tea was excruciating.  Worse, the almond croissants had powdered sugar all over them.  When he got back to the car, he put both pastries in the back seat, where no one would eat them; handed Gladio his tea; and popped the tab on his can of iced coffee and downed half of it in one go.

Gladio was right that Iggy needed to take care of himself – of course he was – but Iggy also had a reputation to uphold of being punctual, precise, and possibly omnipotent.  He couldn’t just show up fifteen minutes late with Ebony, like in a meme.  They only barely made it to the Citadel on time, and they’d cut it far too close.  Worse, Gladio bit into his croissant the instant Iggy handed it to him, even though he’d been warned about the powdered sugar, and then he had white speckles on his shirt for the rest of the morning, and Iggy couldn’t help thinking uncomfortably intimate thoughts about how he might remove them.  Worse, Iggy couldn’t think of a good excuse to hang around the gym and watch Gladio swing his buster sword around.


	8. I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio gets into a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever gotten a call saying your boyfriend's in the hospital? I have! It's terrifying!

A year or so into their relationship, Gladio was taking Noctis and Prompto out to celebrate something – a minor Niflheim holiday, at Prompto’s request, which had happened to occur at the same time that Noctis had gotten a particularly good report card, so they had Gladio take them to the arcade and to get dinner – and Iggy was at his uncle’s house, reading a book and unwinding, when he got a call from Clarus.

It wasn’t that unusual.  Clarus tended to call his uncle, but for things pertaining to Noctis, or if Gladio was hard to get a hold of, he would call Iggy.  Plus, Gladio’s birthday was approaching; maybe he wanted to coordinate about that.  The last thing Iggy expected to hear was, “Gladio’s in the hospital.  I think you should come.”

He was on his feet in a moment, going to find his uncle.  “Which hospital?  What happened?  Is he going to be alright?”

“He’s okay.  It looks like just a cut.  But he’s gotten… really a lot of stitches, and I know he would appreciate having you here.”

Iggy found his uncle in his office.  He held the phone away from his face a bit to say, “Gladio’s in hospital.  He’s getting stitches.”

“Does Clarus know?”  Tellus sprang into action as quickly as Iggy had.  “I’ll drive you.  Which hospital?”

“Tellus and I are coming,” Iggy told Clarus.  “Are Noctis and Prompto there?  They need to go home; Noctis overreacts to injuries, and Prompto’s a civilian.”

“They’re in a car with a Kingsglaive guard,” Clarus assured him.  “I’m at the hospital with him.  He doesn’t seem to have a concussion, but they’re keeping him overnight to be sure.”

They were finally approaching the car, so Iggy asked again, “Which hospital?”

“Our Lady of Gentle Frost.”  Iggy repeated the name to his uncle as they both got in the car.  “Tell me when you’re nearby and I’ll meet you in the lobby.  I need to call Iris, since I’ll be home late.”

“Of course.”  He didn’t want to hang up.  He didn’t want to stop talking to the one person who was with Gladio.  But of course Iris would need to talk to her father at a time like this.  “I’ll text you.  See you then.”

Would Noctis prefer a text or call at a time like this?  He didn’t know.  Iggy wanted to talk, though, so he called.

“Hey, Specs.  Did Clarus call you?  He said he would.”

“He did.  Are you alright?”

“Yeah.  There was…  It probably just looked like a lot of blood since it was on his face.  Easier to see, or something.”  Great.  Just what Iggy needed to keep being The Calm One.  But he hadn’t been lying before; Noctis did tend to exaggerate injuries in his mind, and Iggy wasn’t the one who’d been in the middle of things, so Iggy had to keep it together.

“Clarus said there were a lot of stitches, but he didn’t sound like he thought Gladio was in danger,” Iggy soothed.  He felt like his chest was going to crack open.  “He got a cut on his face, then?”

“We were just going to a restaurant, and then this guy comes out of a bar and he’s got a broken bottle in his hand, and he’s yelling something about when he was in the war, so Gladio got between us.  They had a fight.  It was… Yeah, there was lots of blood on his face, from the cut.”

Broken glass.  That sounded terrible.  “Well, they’re getting him all cleaned up,” Iggy said.  He swallowed.  “You and Prompto are unharmed?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, he made sure of that.”

“Good.  Now, listen to me and follow my instructions exactly.  When you get to your apartment, you’re going to invite the Kingsglaive inside.  If they refuse, you’re going to insist, and say it’s for safety.  When you get to your room, put the kettle on and get your favorite tea ready.  Is Prompto alright?”

“Yeah, he’s been fine.  He’s okay.”

“Good.  Once you’ve put the kettle on and gotten tea ready to brew for both of you, and the Glaive if they want some, you’re going to go to the couch and stay there.  You’re going to watch something lighthearted and fun, Prompto is going to watch it with you, and you aren’t to separate until at least tomorrow morning.  Am I understood?”

“You don’t have to be so pushy about it,” Noct grumbled.

“Good.  Now, have you eaten?  Do you need to get food delivered?”  Noctis had said ‘going _to_ the restaurant,’ hadn’t he?

“Oh.  Yeah, I guess.  I know, I know: have Prompto call, or order online.  I’ll take all the precautions.  I just want to sleep.”

“I won’t stop you,” Iggy promised.  “Do be sure to check on Prompto, though; sometimes, people seem alright, but aren’t.”

“I know.  Thank you for calling to check on me.”

“Of course, Noct.  Be safe.”  He hung up, not sure what to do with both Clarus and Noctis exhausted as conversation partners.  He didn’t want to just be alone in the car with his thoughts.

“You said Clarus is with him?” Tellus confirmed.  Right.  He still hadn’t told his uncle everything.

“Yes.  When we hung up, he was getting ready to call Iris.”

“Good, good.  Are you alright?”

“I’m…”  He wasn’t alright, not really.  Couldn’t be until he’d seen Gladio in person.  But usually, when his uncle asked that, what he really meant was, ‘can you appear alright if there’s paparazzi?’  “I’ll have it together when we go to the lobby.  It doesn’t sound like an assassin, just a violent drunk.  He’ll be fine.”  He steeled himself; he couldn’t cry.  That would be too obvious, too difficult to explain without exposing their relationship.

“You don’t need to worry about keeping up appearances,” Tellus said quietly.  “Let me worry about that.  This is too big for that.”

“Are you certain?”  He could do it, he was sure, if it was needed.

“I am.  I’m sure Clarus would tell you the same.”

“Noctis said there was a lot of blood,” Iggy said, letting himself sound afraid.  “Clarus said there were a lot of stitches.  It sounds like it’s on his face.”  He sniffled.  “I know he’s going to be fine, but I’m still worried.”

“It’s not every day you hear your boyfriend’s in the hospital,” Tellus reminded him.  “It’ll help you to see him.”

“What if his face is just all bandages?”  He wanted to see Gladio smiling at him, see the softness in his eyes.  He wanted to kiss him.  “What if we can’t even see each other?  What if he hurt one of his eyes?”

“Darling, Clarus would have told you if he had an eye injury.  He wouldn’t let you walk in there without preparing you for it.”

Iggy stifled a whimper and pulled his handkerchief out so he could dab at his eyes.  He was such a mess, crying when everything had been mostly fine.  Noctis and his friend were unharmed, Gladio’s injuries would heal, and if he did have a concussion, they’d notice and make sure he treated it.  Satisfactory outcomes all around.  But Iggy was still scared, and he was still crying.

Anyway, they were almost to the hospital.  Iggy texted Clarus, eventually putting his glasses in his pocket and just holding his phone closer to his face since the tears were pooling along the line where his glasses touched his cheeks.  The car was parked a few moments later, and he blew his nose before getting out.

There were two journalists by the door of the hospital.  Iggy straightened his back and tucked his hair into place.  They took pictures and one of them said, “Count Scientia!  Any comments on the events of tonight?”

“The boy’s best friend is in hospital and you want a public statement?” Tellus scolded, putting a hand on the back of Iggy’s shoulder.  “Wolves.”  They were past the journalists by then, and the door was shutting behind them.

He mostly held it together when they were inside.  He greeted Clarus by the elevators, rode up and walked to Gladio’s room more or less calmly, but then, when he saw Gladio with half his face covered in bandages and an IV in his arm, he started crying all over again.

“Heyyyy, Iggs,” Gladio said, his voice soft like it was before he fell asleep.  “You made it.  I love you.”  He said it so plainly, like it was obvious, a fact.

Iggy went to sit in the chair by Gladio’s bed and hold his hand.  “Of course I came, darling.  How are you feeling?”

“Tired.  They gave me good drugs while they sewed my face up, but now they’re keeping me awake in case I’m concussed.”

Iggy smiled a little, as much as he could while crying.  “If you _are_ concussed, you’re very lucid,” he pointed out.

Gladio frowned.  “Hey.  Hey, you’re worrying again.”  He reached up and cupped Iggy’s cheek in his hand, and wiped the tears away from one of Iggy’s eyes with his thumb.  “Who let you worry like that?  It’ll keep you up all night.”

Iggy touched Gladio’s shoulder gently.  “I’ll have some coffee in the morning,” he promised.  “You’re so sweet, to think of me when you’re the one hurting.”

“Nahhhhhh.”  Gladio was still frowning.  “They say I have to stay up.  Get down here; I’ll watch out for you.  Help you sleep.”

“There are visiting hours,” Iggy protested.  “Besides, our guardians are here.”

“That’s too bad,” Gladio said.  He sounded like he was joking now?  He didn’t seem able to stay on one topic for long.  “Tellus scares the shit out of me.”  He sounded so genuine, Iggy couldn’t help laughing.

“You’re high, darling,” Iggy reminded him.

“Yup.  Feels nice.  Kinda blurry, though.”  Gladio closed his eyes, smiling gently.

Iggy looked up at Clarus.  “Is he falling asleep?  Should I wake him?”  Gladio didn’t seem to be concussed, wasn’t complaining of a headache or acting more disoriented than the drugs would make him, but it wasn’t Iggy’s call.

Clarus was frowning.  “Yes, please do.”  So Iggy held Gladio’s shoulder more firmly.

“Time to wake up, darling,” Iggy said, shaking Gladio gently.  “We can’t have you falling asleep when you’re still under observation for a concussion.”

Gladio blinked awake and yawned.  “Are Noctis and Prompto alright?” he asked, and Iggy’s first thought was that maybe he did have some amnesia, but then he clarified: “I told Libertus to make sure they rest, but Noct gets shaken at the drop of a hat and I don’t know how Prompto is in a crisis.”

“I talked to them,” Iggy reassured him.  “I gave Noctis very clear instructions on how to take care of himself.  They’ll be fine.  You’re a hypocrite, darling, telling me to stop worrying about you while you worry about everyone else.”

“Doesn’t keep me up ‘til three in the morning,” Gladio countered.  “Your sleep hygiene’s terrible, babe.  I still don’t know how you’re so good at everything when you don’t sleep.  I gotta fix that when we’re married.”

Iggy smirked.  “Oh?  How are you intending to do that?”

“Ignis,” his uncle hissed.  (Maybe he was worried Gladio was going to say he was going to fuck Iggy’s brains out?  He doubted it, though.)

“Gonna make sure you go to bed, first of all.  You’re always at your desk or something when we talk at night.  Not gonna let you make excuses.  You’ll be in bed by midnight if I have to lie on top of you to make you stay there.  Hopefully you’ll like me enough to come with me, though.”

“And once we’re there?” Iggy asked.  “You know I’m perfectly capable of staying wide awake while lying in bed.”

“’m gonna touch your hair,” Gladio said, smiling softly.  “It’s so shiny, Iggy.  It’s so soft.  I love you.”

Iggy stroked Gladio’s hair.  It took all his mental fortitude not to laugh.  “That sounds like a very solid plan,” he said.  He definitely wanted to hear more when they were alone, but he was worried things _would_ take a turn for the sexual if he asked more questions.  Gladio didn’t seem to have the best mental filter at the moment.  “Quite far in the future to plan for when we aren’t even engaged yet.”

Gladio shrugged the shoulder with the arm that didn’t have an IV in it.  “I can wait,” he said with all the confidence in the world.  “It’s forever, anyway; who cares when we get engaged or married?”

He had bandages over half his face, but that dopey, lopsided smile was the same as always.  Well, maybe a little dopier than usual, since he was high.  Ignis wasn’t sure he’d ever been more in love.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Gladio whined.  “What’s wrong?  I love you.”

He could hardly ask Gladio to sit up for a hug, high and possibly-concussed as he was, so Iggy grabbed his hand instead.  That didn’t feel close enough, so he let go just long enough to take his gloves off and took Gladio’s hand again.  He could feel every detail.  Every hair, every bone, every fold of skin.  Gladio’s hand.  Gentle and warm and solid.  He clutched it tightly as his eyes started to overflow.

“He’s getting all worked up,” Gladio said, looking past Iggy toward Tellus.  “I’m not that hurt.  Why’s he upset?”

“It’s getting late,” Clarus said.  “I’ll ask if it’s safe to let you sleep now, dear.  Tellus, I think both of our boys could use some rest.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”  Tellus reached around Iggy to pick his gloves up off the bed and said, “It’s time to go now, darling.  Let’s let Gladio get some rest.”  He led Iggy out of Gladio’s room and into the first bathroom they saw.

“I’m sorry for that… display,” Iggy apologized as soon as the door was shut.  His uncle handed his gloves back and he put them on.  “I didn’t expect to get so emotional.”  He sniffed and pulled his handkerchief out again.  “We hadn’t said we love each other out loud.”

“Well, it certainly seemed to be on the tip of his tongue,” Tellus pointed out.

“He’s so wonderful,” Iggy whined.  Who said Gladio was allowed to be so overwhelmingly good?

“Darling, you’re exhausted.  Clean yourself up and we’ll go home.  We can discuss it in the morning.”

Iggy nodded and blotted at his tears.  He took the elevator with his uncle, dodged the reporters (didn’t they have anything better to do?), and made it back to the car without any mishaps.

Gladio wanted to marry him.  He would have to figure out a good proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last long chapter of the fic. The last two are much shorter. No less cute, though! :)


	9. Making Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis meddles some more, but this time, he did the right thing.

Gladio’s phone rang at 2PM on a Saturday and all he could think was, _Noctis better not have just woken up._   He still picked up his phone.  “Hey, Noct.”

“Hey, Gladio.  I hear congratulations are in order.”  Noctis even sounded like he was smiling, which actually was unusual before 2.

It was news to him.  “Oh, yeah?  Why?”

“Oh, uhhh…  Wait, are you telling me you just had a normal date with Iggy last night?”

“Yeah?  What was…  Was Iggy planning something?”  His phrasing seemed to imply engagement, but he hadn’t thought Iggy was ready for that…

“Gladio, do me a favor, okay?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Iggy’s been stressing over how to propose to you for, like, six months, so I need you to do it for him.”

He sat down on his bed.  “You can’t just _say_ that, Noctis!  You’re ruining the surprise!”

He could hear the eye-roll through the phone.  “There’s no _surprise,_ Gladio.  Because he isn’t gonna get up the guts to propose.  He keeps pretending he’s waiting for the ‘perfect moment’ or whatever, but I think he’s just scared.  You don’t get all caught up in perfectionism like him, so you’re the one who has to do it.”

He flopped down onto his back.  “Okay.  Okay, so um.  Is there any—are there any rings or anything involved?  If he’s waiting for the perfect moment, what does that look like?”

“Gladio, I honestly cannot emphasize this enough: however you propose to him, he’s gonna romanticize the fuck out of it and tell me a million times.  I have no more fucks to give.  I just need one of you idiots to do it so he can stop being such a nervous mess.”

Gladio rolled onto his side and grabbed a pillow to shove under his head.  “It just makes me worry…  If he keeps not doing it, maybe it’s not just the timing.  Maybe he doesn’t actually want to marry me, but he just doesn’t have the guts to break up.  It isn’t like him to waffle like that.”

“Gladio, he’s nervous because he has a _fucking anxiety disorder._   I need you to listen to the words that are coming out of my mouth: he loves you, he’s absolutely fucking insane over you, and if you don’t propose to him, he’s going to keep bothering me about how pitiful and nervous he is.  You’re supposed to protect me, right?  As my Shield?  I need you to protect me from death by boredom when Iggy asks me to give a fuck and I am one hundred percent out of fucks to give.”

Gladio laughed.  “Okay.  Okay, you have my word.  As your Shield.  Feast of Bahamut’s coming up; that’s a good day, right?”

“You could propose on the most mundane Tuesday ever and I would still say it was a great day to propose.”

“I’ll ask him to walk with me in the garden.  You have my word, I’ll propose to him then.”

 _“Thank_ you.  Also, get over here; I went for a run with Prompto yesterday and my knee is visibly red.”

Gladio sighed.  Was Noctis ever going to grow up?  “Ice it while I head over there.  Do you have your back brace on?”  When he complained about one, the other was usually hurting, too.

“Yeah…  I don’t want to get up and walk to the freezer, though.”

“Did you use the cold pack in your nightstand and not tell me?”  There was a _reason_ he stashed medical supplies by Noct’s bed.

A rustling sound and the sound of a drawer opening came through the phone, and Noctis said, “Oh, sweet!  There’s chocolate, too!”

Gladio smiled.  “Yeah, I think I know you pretty well by now.  Maybe met you once or twice…  Put a pillow under your knee so you don’t overextend it and I’ll be there in a few.”

“Thanks, Gladdy!”

“Be there soon, nerd.”

.-._.-._.-._

The Feast of Bahamut was a logistical nightmare, and Noctis seemed intent on making the whole thing more difficult than it needed to be.  First, he was convinced his back brace was too visible through his shirt, then he fumbled his tie three times in a row, then he complained about the menu that had been finalized two weeks earlier, and finally, when Iggy asked him why he was so anxious, he didn’t say anything at all.  If he’d asked Iggy, he would have known that the way he favored his right knee after last week’s impromptu cross-country sprint was much more obvious than a back brace that could easily be mistaken for an undershirt, but fortunately, he didn’t ask, which was the only reason Ignis was able to get him to the dining room in time for the Feast.

Sitting next to Gladio during the dinner was considerably nicer.  They could talk about anything, and it was nice not to be the one quietly reminding Noct that he had to take _something_ from each dish that came around, and no, eating one piece of grilled zucchini wouldn’t kill him.

“Want to chill in the gardens for a while?” Gladio asked quietly as dinner ended and everyone went to a ballroom instead.

“Sounds lovely,” Iggy told him.  “Noctis seems anxious tonight, so I’ll just text him to remind him I can give him an out when he needs it.”  He pulled his phone out and sent the text quickly, and they slipped out to visit the autumn garden instead of staying in the ballroom, which would get hot and humid quickly with so many people inside.

When they were behind the first row of bushes, their pace slowed considerably.  They wandered for several minutes, chatting and flirting, through the maze of gardens to a secluded path surrounded by rose bushes, where Gladio pressed a hand against the small of Iggy’s back.  “I’ve been thinking,” he said quietly.

“Terribly dangerous habit, that,” Iggy told him, to get back for all those times Gladio had said the same to him.  “I do it all the time, and look where it gets me.”

“I deserved that,” Gladio chuckled.  “But, really.  More specifically.  I’ve been thinking about marriage.”

“Oh.”  He didn’t even know what to say to that.  Gladio said it so easily, and he hadn’t managed to broach the topic despite trying for months.  “That kind of thinking.”

“Yeah.  That kind.  I’ve, um.  I’ve known for a while that I want this to be forever.”  He wrapped his arm tighter around Iggy’s waist and pulled him down onto a bench.  They sat next to each other and Gladio’s hand rubbed across Iggy’s shoulders.  “And I wanted to know if you felt the same way,” he finished.  His face was earnest, gentle and warm and solid, and Iggy checked for people who might see them before leaning forward to rest his head against Gladio’s chest.

“Of course I’ll marry you,” he said.  “It’s a love for the ages.”  He couldn’t tell if he was making fun of his uncle (or perhaps himself) four years earlier, or if he was being embarrassingly honest.  What he knew for certain was that the way Gladio’s arm settled around his back, holding him close, was so warm and intimate it was nearly overwhelming.  He breathed in the masculine scent of cologne he’d helped select and just let Gladio hold him for a while.

“I always miss the way you smell,” Gladio said, as if he could pull the thoughts straight out of Iggy’s head.  “Everything else is…  I can remember it, and it’s enough.  I want to fall asleep with my face buried against your neck.  I want to wake up smelling you.”

“We can spend our honeymoon in a cabin by the seashore,” Iggy murmured.  “Wake up to the sound of the waves in the sunlight, under layers of quilts.”

“Holding each other,” Gladio added.

“Absolutely.  We’ll eat at those little restaurants that tend to pop up when there’s a sufficient number of tourists around.”

“Gotta grab ice cream,” Gladio pointed out.

“Oh, yes.  That’s essential.  Every day.  We have to make up a few of the calories from all the sex we’ll be having.”

Gladio laughed, probably a little too loudly.  “Tell me more about that part,” he prompted.

“What, during a party where we’ll no doubt be sharing this hedge with other young lovers in the next few minutes?  That’s just asking to be overheard.”  Iggy sat up.  He was sure the smile on his face looked positively goofy, but he couldn’t make himself care.  “We’re engaged,” he reminded Gladio.

Gladio stroked all the way down Iggy’s arm and took his hand so he could kiss it.  “We are,” he said, his deep voice a quiet rumble that would be unintelligible if Iggy were more than a few inches away from him.  “With every intention of stayi—oh, shit that’s my phone – I mean.  Um.  With every intention of staying that way.”  He kissed Iggy’s hand again, quickly, and pulled his phone out.  “Frig, it’s Noctis.”

Iggy stood up and straightened his jacket.  “Nothing too serious, I hope.”

Gladio read the text and laughed.  “It just says, ‘Incoming Accordan dignitary.  Send Iggy.’  As if he wasn’t raised to do this.”

“Well.  Let’s go save him, shall we, darling?”  Iggy didn’t offer his hand – too conspicuous – but he was… He certainly was engaged now.

“Of course, Iggs.  Just like a date, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left! What could it possibly beeeeeee???????


	10. The Means of Uniting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE FINAL CHAPTER!!! ARE YOU READYYYYYY?????

It was the end of the world.  It was the beginning of the apocalypse.  Tomorrow, by the most technical definition of ‘tomorrow’ to be had since there was almost no sunlight, they would have to ensure that Noctis got to the Crystal and fulfilled the prophecy put forward by the Astrals at the end of the Solheim Empire.  Iggy cooked Noct’s favorite tarts.  Prompto gave him a picture to remember him by.  Gladio massaged his back and helped him stretch his knee.

“There’s something I need to do before I can go into the Crystal,” he said, pulling Iggy out of his folding chair to stand near the fire.  “Prompto, you need to watch.”

Some sort of will, then?  Iggy wasn’t certain he could handle that.  But, instead, Noctis said “Give me your hands” and took Iggy’s hand in his.

He knew what this was.  He knew who it was who had to be holding Noctis’ other hand.  He turned his face to Gladio’s height above the place where he heard boots shuffle, smiling and hoping that Gladio was smiling too.

“Prom, are you watching?” Noctis asked.

“Yeah, I’m here, dude.”

“Okay.”  Noctis took a deep breath and squeezed Iggy’s hand a little.  “Count Ignis Stupeo Scientia, do you take this man to be your husband, to love and cherish for the rest of your days?”

“I do.”  His heart was pounding, and he’d only found out moments ago they were going to be married.

He felt Noct shift so his body was facing Gladio.  “Lord Gladiolus Amicitia, Shield of King Noctis Lucis Caelum, do you take this man to be your husband, to love and cherish for the rest of your days?”

“Always,” Gladio said.

“Then, by the power granted to me by the people and the lands of Lucis, and by the power of the Crystal, I marry you, an unbreakable bond to tie you together forever.”

“Are those really the words?” Prompto asked quietly as Noctis joined their hands.  Gladio lifted their joined hands up as they kissed.  Prompto and Noctis clapped.

“You better still be together when I get out,” Noct threatened.  “If I’m in there a hundred years, I’m gonna expect to come out and find you buried next to each other.  I’ve never seen anyone as in love as you two.  Be good to each other, okay?”

Iggy broke away from Gladio to hug Noctis.  He didn’t even bother answering Noct’s question; he just thanked him quietly.  So little good had happened recently, and now he was _married._   “Yeah, yeah,” Noct said, clearly embarrassed at having his kindness recognized.  “Just save the consummation for tomorrow night, okay?  Don’t want to wake up to you two doin’ it the night before I go into stasis or whatever.”

Gladio laughed.  “When have you ever found us out?” he asked.  “Don’t worry, princess; I think we can keep it together for one night.”  He kissed Iggy on the temple as he went to join him in hugging Noctis.  “You did a good thing, kiddo.  Couldn’t be happier to have you as my king.”

They still had to give Noctis up.  Their lives had revolved around him for so long, they were both somewhat at a loss for what to do without him.  But, ultimately, a duty to Noctis meant a duty to Lucis, and with no sunlight, there was so _much_ work to do.  Ignis just counted himself lucky that he got to do that work with a ring on his finger and Gladiolus in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my story! Selador wanted me to point out that now they're a "badass gay married couple" that fights daemons together. I hope you enjoyed the marriage and the way their friends are pulling for them!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I have the whole fic written out, and plan to post a new chapter every two days until it's done. Some of the chapters will be really short and others will be much longer because I trued to divide them by topic. I hope you're enjoying my writing!


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